


To Sleep, Perchance to Dream

by Allychik6



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Draco Malfoy Speaks French, Dreams, M/M, affair?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-25
Updated: 2020-02-25
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:20:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22885432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Allychik6/pseuds/Allychik6
Summary: Inside, Draco was experiencing a vague sort of panic attack, the kind that caused his belly to clench up in wrenching pain and his heart to race and his fingers to tingle horribly. Outside, he forced an appearance of calm, with slow deep breaths and sarcastic words. “Well, I am glad to know that our Dashing Hero remains among the living. But, why has he sent me his Will?”
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 18
Kudos: 240





	To Sleep, Perchance to Dream

Draco gasped and sat up in bed. A dream. Years of these dreams had instilled strong habits, and now Draco fell into them easily. He looked around the room, at the pale grey walls and the dark curtains, at the black metal bed frame and the white duvet. So different from the cottage of his dreams. He used these habits to ground himself in reality.  


And then he looked at the man sleeping in the bed next to him. He and Luc had been on again-off again for years now, and they had only recently started up again. While the sex was pleasant, Draco wasn’t sure if he was more than mildly interested.  


With practised ease, he slipped from underneath the blankets and walked over to his desk. The top drawer had a secret latch where he kept his journal. Still naked, Draco sat down to write the dream, just as he had since that very first night.

***

_Draco sat on the bench with a glass of wine, looking out at the tall grass behind the cottage. The wine tasted light and crisp, like the beaujolais from last year. Harry came walking through the grass, the wind ruffling his hair. He was wearing the dress shirt Draco wanted to buy him last Christmas, open collar and sleeves rolled up. He smiled and waved.  
_

_  
It’s Draco’s favorite part of the dream, watching him walking towards him and the cottage, waving and happy. He sat down on the bench next to Draco and took his hand, and Draco smiled at him. These quiet moments are stolen, out of time, theirs alone.  
_

_“How did your meeting go?”  
_

_Harry leaned back, resting his head against the cottage. “It was long, but I thought the presentation went well.” He closed his eyes and rubbed his thumb along Draco’s knuckles. “You were right about Luc, very stubborn, but when I explained it in French he seemed more receptive.”  
_

_“He’s very proud, like most Frenchmen.” Draco sipped from his glass. “I’m considering taking up with him again,” he admitted.  
_

_“I thought he was clingy and nosy and, I quote here, not to your liking.”  
_

_Draco took another sip and looked out at the grass beyond the gate, at how it perpetually seemed to be waving hello. “I’m lonely. I may call my Mind Healer.”  
_

_Harry nodded. “Want to go inside?”  
_

_“Luc is in the bed next to me.”  
_

_  
“So.”  
_

_“So, sometimes I wake up a bit sticky when we go inside. And I don’t want to deal with his questions. And he might wake me up, and I want to stay here.”  
_

_Harry nodded. “I want to stay here all the time. I’ve been thinking about buying some sleeping potions.”  
_

_Draco stiffened next to him. Whenever Harry said he’d been thinking it always meant he’d already done it. “You should make an appointment with yours.”  
_

_“And say what, I travel to an alternate dimension in my dreams where I met the love of my life, and I want to stay there forever because I can’t cope with the trainwreck that is my life?”  
_

_“You could just say that last part.”  
_

_“She always knows I’m lying. I’m pants at lying.”  
_

_Draco put a hand on his knee. “Harry, if you take all that potion, you won’t get to stay here, you’ll just die. And then I really will take up with Luc.”  
_

_“Don’t take up with Luc.” Harry covered Draco’s hand with his own and stared at the side of Draco’s face until he faced him. Then Harry kissed Draco.  
_

_“Let’s go inside,” Draco said, and they did._

***

“What are you writing?” Luc asked from the bed.  


“I had a dream. I want to write it down before I forget.” Draco did not put down his pen, he did not turn to face Luc, he tried to tune out the man in his bed.  


“Why don’t you come back to bed? I can give you better dreams.” He was probably waggling his eyebrows.  


Draco could hear Luc pushing back the bedding and standing up. Quickly, Draco finished his sentence and closed the journal, activating the privacy spell and tucking it in the drawer. Although not, as he very much wanted, into its secret compartment. “What time is it?”  


“Just after six.”  


“I have to teach, and I don’t want to show up smelling like sex.”  


“Why? Your students all will.” Luc draped his arms over Draco’s shoulders and breathed lightly into his neck. “It will be relaxing and you seem very tense this morning.”  


Draco wanted to listen to Harry, he wanted to not take up with Luc. But Harry wasn’t here, he was in England waking up next to his wife to the sounds of their three children. He was getting dressed or perhaps his own morning relaxation. And Draco wanted that. He wanted to be the one tempting Harry to stay in bed, to be late to work, and so he let Luc pull him back to the bed. Just as he had let Luc kiss him against the bedroom wall last night and just as he would let Luc do it again the next time he asked.  


What did it matter if he thought of Harry or didn’t think at all? And so when Luc got down on his knees, Draco did just that, lost himself in a warm, willing place and forgot about the world.

***

He was still happily not thinking an hour later while walking to the Sorbonne de Magique where he was due to teach a class in the Origins of Magic in just under fifteen minutes. Technically, he had been hired for research into Dark Artifacts, but the origin of magic was a hobby of his, and when Professor Cherrier had taken a sabbatical the department head had asked him to cover the class.  


He walked into the lecture hall to see his twenty students and Ron Weasley seated on his desk. “Descends de mon bureau, Weasley,” Draco barked as he set his things down by the door. “Bonjour.” He greeted the class and began writing on the white board.  


Weasley did not get off of his desk, and Draco spent fifty minutes ignoring him to the very best of his ability. Which was significantly greater than that of his students, who kept shooting glances towards Draco’s desk. He could sense the lack of attention in his students every time he turned his back to write on the board, but angrily pressed through his lecture and still assigned an essay on the properties of elemental magic. Draco waited by his desk to answer a few lingering questions from students on their way out the door, and then, finally, turned his attention to Weasley.  


“Why are you here disrupting my class?” He replaced his markers in his bag and gathered his notes.  


“I need you to come with me.” Draco looked over Ron and noticed the stiff set to his shoulders, the clenched jaw, the whiteness of his knuckles.  


“Am I under arrest?” Draco asked obnoxiously, but with some genuine concern. He had paid his reparations, committed no crimes, and not set foot in England in nearly fifteen years.  


“You’re a person of interest,” Weasley admitted, and Draco’s heart sank. There was only one reason he could possibly be a person of interest.  


“I wonder what I could have possibly done, having not set foot on English soil in a decade and a half. Why, I don’t even send letters. Whatever could this be about.” Because of course it had to be about Harry. “Lead the way, Auror Weasley.”  


Weasley took Draco by the elbow and they apparated to the Autorite Francaise du Magique, Auror division. Absently, Draco wondered if he would see Luc. But he didn’t. Ron steered him into the nearest interrogation room where Dean Thomas was waiting at the table with an envelope.  


Draco took a seat and tried not to think about the fact that Dean Thomas was occasionally sleeping with Ginevra Weasley-Potter. The things he knew about people he hadn’t seen in so long always took Draco by surprise when confronted with them in reality.  


Dean threw the envelope down on the table with more force the necessary, and Draco remembered this was an off month. He glanced down and saw his own name in Harry’s chicken scratch. “Are you delivering post now? Because owls will cross the channel.”  


Dean scowled and Draco smiled prettily up at him.  


“We need you to open it.” Weasley was scowling too  


Dread filled Draco. Why would Harry write a letter spelled to Draco’s essence? “It looks like it’s already been opened. Have you been tampering with my mail, Weasley?” Draco did not reach for the envelope.  


“It’s spelled for you. We can’t read it.” Weasley sighed loudly. “We need you to read the letter to us.”  


And still Draco wanted nothing to do with the letter. After Harry’s confession, nothing good could be in that letter. “Why?”  


“He just told you!” Dean snarled.  


“Not why do I need to read it, why has the great and mighty Harry Potter written me a letter spelled to my essence and left it for you to hand deliver.” Because there was only one reason Draco could think that Harry would have done such a thing. And there was no way in the nine circles of Hell he wanted to know what was in that letter. Draco clasped his hands tightly together underneath the table to keep them from shaking.  


And when Weasley replied, “Just read the letter,” Draco knew. He’d known since he saw Weasley, but he’d hoped, and now there was no denying any longer.  


With no small amount of trepidation, Draco reached out. He locked his gaze, and his focus, on his hand to keep it still, and it was only through dumb luck that he grabbed the envelope on the first try. He pulled the parchment from the envelope and carefully unfolded it so that neither Dean nor Weasley could see the ink. For surely this would be a private thing. In the bottom corner was the small square for his thumb. But when Draco touched it, light glittered across the page as the words appeared. He let go of the square and put the paper down so that no one else would be able to read the words. “I need my glasses.” Draco got out the small silver spectacles and then picked up the paper again to read.  


The first set of words jumped out of the way leaving behind the private message first.  


> My love,  
>  I hope to see you at the Cottage, but in case I am wrong, I’m leaving Grimmauld Place to you, along with the bulk of my fortune. I know you will see to everyone’s well being. Give Teddy my love. Keep James from the pranks, lend Al your courage, and share your curiosity with Lily.

Draco took off his glasses to clean them while he blinked rapidly, then put them back on to read the other message. It was from Harry’s solicitor containing his Last Will and Testament as well as the deed to Grimmauld Place.  


“What is this?” Draco demanded when he could find his voice to speak, showing the will to Weasley. “Why has Potter left me his fortune and house?”  


“What?!” Weasley shouted, snatching the paper from Draco. Only the Will and Testament remained. “He’s not dead. This isn’t valid.”  


Inside, Draco was experiencing a vague sort of panic attack, the kind that caused his belly to clench up in wrenching pain and his heart to race and his fingers to tingle horribly. Outside, he forced an appearance of calm, with slow deep breaths and sarcastic words. “Well, I am glad to know that our Dashing Hero remains among the living. But, why has he sent me his Will?”  


It was at that moment that Luc opened the door. Draco immediately stood, oddly grateful for a familiar face, especially one that might side with him. And then he saw five slim leather bound journals tucked underneath his arm. A burning started in the pit of his stomach, and for a brief moment Draco thought he might sick up all over the table. He clenched his jaw, swallowed back the bile and focused on the utter fury left behind. Those were private. “I suppose I’ll cancel that dinner reservation,” he snarled at Luc, icy reserve gone.  


Luc threw the journals onto the table and began to shout an angry judgemental litany of all the ways that Draco was fucked up. “Qu'est-ce qui ne va pas avec toi? Prendre un amant quand vous en avez déjà un!”  


Draco did not pay strict attention. Those journals were his! Private! He glanced at Weasley who seemed only to understand the tone of Luc’s words, but based on the way Dean was slowly turning red this was not a private argument between ex-lovers. Draco resisted the urge to gather his journals to his chest, to guard his heart from these greedy, unwelcome strangers who had no right to pry into his private affair. It wouldn’t do to let Dean and Ron know the value of what Luc had just presented to them. But Luc’s betrayal burned.  


“C’est une affaire, une affaire de quinze ans. Vous ne pouvez vous engager envers personne d’autre, vous avez ce Harry!” Luc shouted and slammed the door shut.  
Weasley looked at Dean who at least had the decency to look embarrassed. With what little dignity Draco had retained, he sat down in the chair. Back ramrod straight and waited. Stomach tight and fingers tingling. He tried to keep the fear from his face, but he could feel a twitch in his cheek.  


He didn’t have to wait long. “What are these?” Weasley asked.  


“These,” Draco gestured to the slim volumes, “are my private dream journals.” He wanted to add something about his ex-lover, but he didn’t want to give Weasley any more information.  


“Why does your--” Dean started to say lover, but based on Draco’s glare quickly changed his word choice, “Why does Luc think we need to see these?”  


Draco reached forward slowly and picked up the dark blue one, ran his hands lovingly over the worn cover. This was the first, the only one not written completely in code, and covered the first five years of his life in France. He’d started it in English when he’d still tried to think of them as normal dreams. He closed his eyes and thought of Harry walking through the meadow, pushing open the gate, sitting on the bench next to him. Weasley was going to find out. The secret was always going to come out, and Draco had nothing to lose. He had always kept it because Harry was the one who would suffer, but Harry had gone and drank all that potion, probably before he’d even told Draco he’d been thinking about it.  


It felt like a different kind of betrayal, to be the one left behind to pick up the pieces of someone else’s broken life.  


Weasley was picking up another one and flipping through the coded pages. “Why are they in code?”  


Draco tossed the blue book at Weasley. “They’re in code because I don’t like it when other people read my private thoughts. Luc’s not the first to find them.”  


“Why are you so protective of them? Dean asked.  


Draco’s eyes never left Weasley. “Are you sure you want to know? You might not like what you find.”  


Weasley picked up the blue journal and skimmed through the first few entries. “These are all about Harry?” he asked incredulously.  


“Every page. Don’t read too carefully.” Draco leaned back and crossed his arms. “I was fairly graphic in my descriptions in those early years.”  


He dropped the book open, the page opening to a rather detailed sketch of Harry sucking Draco’s cock. Draco didn’t need to lean over the table to read the date or description. He remembered waking up from that dream, still thinking it was all going to vanish and that he would never remember what it looked like to have Harry’s mouth sucking him down. But now, fifteen years and countless blow jobs later, he could remember the warm wet glide, the happy moans, the way Harry would sometimes pull off completely before Draco came just to watch.  


“I may have made a few sketches as well.” Draco smirked at Ron’s horrified expression.  


“What is this?!” he shouted, more horrified than angry.  


Draco debated where to start, and then decided he probably ought to start with answering the questions Weasley hadn’t asked. “I know Harry drank too much sleeping potion last night. He told me he’d been thinking about it.” Draco wouldn’t tell Ron about how Harry wanted to leave Ginny, how he complained about being Head of the DMLE or that he regretted not suggesting Ron take the position. He would not spill Harry’s secrets, only his own. “For fifteen years now, sometimes, when I dream, I dream of Harry.”  


“That’s impossible,” Ron growled. “People don’t share dreams. You’ve been spying on him somehow.”  


“Pick an entry.” Draco gestured to the table. “I’ll translate for you. I’ll even leave out the sexy bits, out of respect for your delicate sensibilities.”  


Ron flipped through to find September 28th, the date of Harry and Ginny’s wedding. Draco didn’t need to read the entry. He had been dreaming of Harry less in those months leading up to the wedding, Harry had been trying to stop the dreams then with Dreamless potions. They didn’t always work, and sometimes made the dreams fuzzy. Draco had hated it because he woke up feeling muzzy and hungover; even copious amounts of coffee didn’t penetrate the haze. “I don’t think you want me to tell you about that date,” Draco said softly.  


“It’s their wedding date,” Ron insisted, getting more and more emotional.  


“Yes,” Draco said with some resignation. “The dreams had been happening for two years at that point. I was accepting of them, but Harry still struggled. He wasn’t very good at,” Draco stopped. “What do you want me to tell you, Weasley? Do you want me to spread all of his secrets out across this table?”  


“You’re lying, all of this is a pile of lies. I’m arresting you for poisoning Harry.”  


“I didn’t poison him. I told you, he drank a bunch of sleeping potion.”  


“And I don’t believe you.”  


“Fine.” Draco shook his head. “But we need to stop by my flat first.”  


“What, so you can make some clever escape? Pack a bag? Can’t travel without your silks?” Ron yelled and scowled.  


“Well, those do sound like lovely options, but I assumed you would like to have all the journals,” Draco said smugly at Ron’s dropped jaw. “Also, I want a lawyer. Since you’re arresting me.”

***

They did go back to the flat, and Dean kept a hand on Draco the whole time. He pulled his journal out of the desk drawer, glared at the rumpled sheets Luc hadn’t bothered to straighten, and asked, “Do you mind if I adjust my wards? I don’t want any pesky French Aurors coming and going without my permission.”  


Dean said reluctantly, “You know that I can’t allow you to interfere with an open investigation. We may need to get back in here.”  


“I can leave it open to you and Weasley. I just want to make a point to Luc.”  


“You really think he’s gonna come back?” Dean asked with raised eyebrows.  


Draco looked at him sideways, irritation mounting and tempting him to say all kinds of stupid things. “And just how would you feel if your lover spilled all of your most intimate moments and secrets, put them on display for the world to see.”  


“The whole world is not going to see your secrets, Malfoy.” Dean sighed. “And to be honest, I doubt your secrets are all that interesting.” Draco didn’t say anything because he had spent a lot of time working on his anger issues and wasn’t at the point yet where he would spill secrets regardless of damage. Yet. Dean saw the set of his jaw though and relented. “Grant me permission, and I will change the wards for you.”  


“Fine.” Draco recognized it as the best offer.  


Dean cast with a vindictive smile. “Spancus Dikkius. I think that will make your point.”  


“What did you do?” Draco asked, forgetting his anger as he mentally reached out to touch the wards. They felt the same.  


“Oh, if Luc tries to come to your flat, he’ll get a penis to the face.”  


“What?” Because Draco thought that Dean had understood the whole gay thing.  


“You know, because he’s an enormous dick.”  


Weasley found the two of them in fits of giggles when it was time to leave. “Have what you came for?”  


Dean and Draco continued to laugh, because, apparently, they were twelve. “Yes.” Draco finally choked out and waved his newest journal.  


“Then let’s go.” Weasley scowled, mostly at Dean who was still doubled over and had let go of Draco.  


As apparating across the channel was difficult, they took a portkey straight to a holding cell and left Draco there. Dean locked the door with an apologetic look, but truthfully, Draco hadn’t expected better treatment. In fact, he’d expected a lot worse.  


An hour later, his lawyer arrived, a doddering old man Draco suspected they had picked because of his failing memory. Not that it would make a difference. If they were really going to pin this on him, he would cause as much hurt in the process as he could. But that was the vindictive side of him talking, and instead Draco tried to think of Harry.  


All day he waited in that cell through two inedible meals and a terribly boring conversation with his lawyer, until eight pm when the guard changed, and Draco resigned himself to sleeping in his clothes. The new guard came into the cell along with Weasley and a potion. Draco could smell the Dreamless Sleep from where he sat.  
“No thanks, nightmares aren’t much of a problem anymore,” he said with closed eyes.  


“I don’t know what you did to Harry, but I am going to find out. And in the meantime, I am going to make damn sure you can’t do anything else.” Weasley shoved the potion under Draco’s nose. “Drink.”  


Draco considered his options. Three days was the maximum time they could hold him without charging him. And if they did charge him, well, all hell might just break loose, he thought vindictively. He could handle three days of Dreamless. He took the potion with an angry, “I didn’t do anything to him, I already told you; Harry did it to himself.” He downed it all in one angry go.  


“We don’t believe you. People don’t just share dreams. Hermione’s got several Unspeakables researching it. There isn’t a trace of evidence to support your story”  


“Well,” Draco glared at the empty vial. “There’s a first time for everything.”  


Ron stormed out of the holding cell, leaving Draco to contemplate the vial.  


The Dreamless Sleep wasn’t perfect, it would suppress the dreams for a few days. But, in Draco’s experience, after about ten doses, he’d wake feeling hungover with a fuzzy head and a migraine, and after fifteen, the dreams would be there in full force with the headaches. He’d stopped fighting them a long time ago, and even missed them when he went a few days without seeing Harry.  


He smashed it on the ground.

****

Draco waited in the interrogation room the next morning for over an hour. At first he thought they were simply trying to frustrate him but eventually he began to wonder if they were waiting for the lawyer to show up. After all, they didn’t know Draco had told the man he planned to fully cooperate with the investigation and would only need him if the whole thing went to trial.  


By hour two, he was contemplating a nap. The Dreamless Sleep should have worn off by then, and he wanted to see Harry. Of course, the moment he propped his feet up and closed his eyes, Dean came back into the room carrying the journals. Draco opened one eye just to see who had come in and then closed it again. “Thomas, I hope you enjoyed your evening.”  


“I hope you found yours restful,” Dean replied. He turned on the dictophone to record their conversation and began. “Sorry for the long wait, we were waiting for your lawyer.”  


“I informed him yesterday that I intend to cooperate fully with the investigation and that his presence was not required unless it went to trial.” Draco kept his feet up on the table with his arms crossed and his eyes closed.  


“Do you expect it to?”  


“In all honesty?” Draco opened both eyes and gave Dean a critical look. “I give it fifty-fifty.” He was too lonely and not angry enough yet to play this game.  


“Those don’t seem to be good odds.” Draco shrugged. “The blood work came back on Harry. How did you know about the sleeping potions?” Dean asked, trying to sound friendly. Apparently he got to be the good Auror rather than the bad..  


“I told you, Harry told me. I wrote it down.” Draco gestured towards the journals.  


“In code, which, we haven’t cracked yet.”  


“I’m sure you will.” Draco drummed his fingers on the table. “It’s not complicated, but I imagine the translation may take some time. This would all be much easier if you simply believed me.”  


“Surely you understand why we can’t do that.”  


Draco shrugged again and inspected his fingernails. This was all getting very tedious very fast, and the small room was starting to grate on his nerves. He closed his eyes again for just a moment and thought of the cottage and the wide open meadow. “Did you have other questions?”  


“How do you communicate with Harry Potter?”  


“We meet at the Cottage, in dreams.”  


“When did this start?”  


Draco looked down at the very first journal. “According to my journal, the first dream occurred at the end of April, the year after the war. I had been in France for three months. We met in a white space. He asked for my address, I refused. End of dream.” He looked up at Dean who opened his mouth to say something else, and Draco interrupted. “I believe we had been in each others dreams for the entire three months prior to my first journal entry.”  


“Why didn’t you write those down?”  


“It wasn’t until much later that I realized he had been there.”  


“What were the dreams?”  


“Nightmares. At the time, I thought he was just another part of the nightmares.”  


Dean didn’t ask about the nightmares. He could have, and Draco would have answered to the best of his ability, but he didn’t. After a moment, Dean said, “So, what made you write down the first dream?”  


“It felt different. Dreams feel real when you are in them, and then you wake up and they feel like dreams. This one didn’t. This one felt real even after I woke.”  


“What else did you dream about? What happened after this dream?”  


Draco gestured towards the books. “You’ve clearly read what you could of them. You know what happened.”  


“How do you induce the dreams?”  


“I go to sleep.” Draco was starting to feel itchy. “Can I have some tea?”  


Dean glanced at the spelled wall, and Draco wondered if someone would bring him a cup. “What else do you do to bring on the dreams.”  


Draco glared at the wall. “Nothing. They are just like any other dream, they come or they don’t, but I can’t control them.” That wasn’t exactly true, but Draco could only control the dream once he was in it.  


“Can you prevent the dreams?”  


“To a degree. You’ll find the first volume covers a significantly longer period of time. Both Harry and I made attempts not to dream of each other, mostly through Dreamless Sleep. But there also seemed to be a strong emotional component. When we fought, which was often in those first years, and couldn’t stand the sight of each other, the dreams came less often.”  


On and on Dean asked. Never about the subjects of the dreams but the mechanics of them. What potions did Draco take, how often did he dream, how often did he have regular dreams. What his emotional state had been at the time of each dream, had he drunk any alcohol. On and on and on.  


Draco leafed through that first book, trying to remember all the inane details from so long ago. A pounding began in his temple, and Draco tried to keep the look off his face and knew he wasn’t always successful. His nerves began to fray badly and his answers became short along with his temper.  


“Thomas,” Draco growled. “I have answered that several times now, has your small brain forgotten already? Or perhaps you’re experiencing a lack of blood flow due to other reasons.” He wanted to be more explicit, he wanted to shout the details and throw his chair. But a very small part of his brain held on to reason, and he didn’t.  


The tea never came.

***

Eventually there was lunch, a slightly stale cheese sandwich, a small bruised apple, and a bag of crushed chips. Seeing as it was the first thing he’d had to eat since yesterday, Draco ate it, even tipped the bag to eat the last of the crumbs. It took less than ten minutes, giving Draco plenty of time to look over his notebooks and remember.  


He’d been pretty messed up when he and his mother moved to France, but Draco had still had some control. When they received the news that his father had hanged himself in Azkaban, Draco went completely off the rails. Out at clubs all night, drinking and smoking (although, thankfully not snorting) but definitely blowing any guy who looked at him with half a smile.  


It wasn’t any wonder that his dreams with Potter shifted from the empty white place where they mostly shouted at each other to sweating clubs. Draco remembered the first one, remembered dancing in the club, someone grinding against his ass, hands firm on his hips, breath hot and heavy on his ear.  


__

“Come on,” Potter said, pushing Draco forward but still managing to keep his cock firmly pressed against Draco.  


__

They pushed through the crowd to find an empty piece of wall mildly obscured by a tall table. Draco turned around and shoved Potter up against the wall, and then kissed him senseless while his hands made quick work of Potter’s pants. He pulled everything down just far enough, and then sank to his knees.  


__

His cock was thick but not overly long, and Draco, practised as he was now, easily sucked him down. “Fuck!” Potter was groaning, hands fisting his hair and bucking. Draco brought both hands up to Potter’s hips and forcefully pinned him to the wall while he worked his way up and down that glorious cock. He swirled his tongue, he lapped at the head, he bobbed and sucked. “Shit!” Potter cried and pushed Draco’s head down, coming, and Draco swallowed and smirked up at Potter.  


__

And then Potter was pushing Draco against the wall, pulling his pants down, taking his cock in his mouth. And Potter didn’t have the experience Draco did. He gagged, and he couldn’t find the right rhythm, and Draco could tell he was choking. But it was Potter, bloody savior of the world on his bloody knees. And Draco was so hard, and not many people went down on him, and the sight of Potter’s mouth stretched, and his green eyes, Draco’s head thumped back against the wall, and he tried to be gentle and not thrust so hard. He kept his hands loose in Potter’s hair and didn’t pull. And it wasn’t long before he was coming too, except Harry didn’t know how to swallow, and so he was coughing and some of it was slipping down his chin. And it was just about the hottest thing Draco had ever seen.  


__

Sometimes Draco still thought about that moment when he took himself in hand. For nearly a year, when he dreamed of Harry it was in the club.  


Dean came back with lukewarm tea, which Draco decided he should have expected based on the lunch but still found to be extremely irritating.  


“Tell me about your relationship with Harry,” Dean said after restarting the dictophone.  


Draco squeezed his eyes shut. “You have the journals, even if you can only read half of the first one, I would think even Weasley could deduce the nature of our relationship.”  


“Draco,” Dean sighed, “I understand that this must be a very difficult and frustrating experience for you, but I really need you to cooperate and answer the question.”  


“If I answer your questions, then I want to see Harry.”  


“You know I can’t make that promise. You are a suspect in this investigation.”  


“Then I want to sleep without that bloody potion.” Draco looked at the wall.  


Dean sighed again. “I can’t make that promise either.”  


“Then I guess, you will just have to wait until one of your people manages to crack the code on my journals.” Draco leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. His stomach was cramping again, and his fingers itching, and the urge to throw furniture was barely, barely contained. Anger at Harry for taking that stupid potion, at Weasley for bringing him in, at Dean for asking all the questions, it was starting to boil and wouldn’t be long until Draco was boiling over with it.  


“What is the nature of your relationship with Harry?” Dean asked again.  


Suddenly, Draco tipped forward, the chair briefly resting on just the front two legs before smacking against the floor. “Do you have a lover, Dean? Perhaps some pretty young thing who likes to walk with you in muggle London on your lunch break?” It was just vague enough that Dean couldn’t be sure Draco knew.  


“We’re not here to talk about me.”  


“Then let’s trade, I’ll answer one of your questions after you answer one of mine.”  


Dean looked at the wall, and then nodded. “Fine. What’s your question?”  


Draco smiled, the mean one that only came out when he was terribly angry. “Do you have a lover?”  


“Yes,” Dean licked his lips nervously and Draco grinned. “What is the nature of your relationship with Harry?”  


“Can you have a relationship with someone you only dream about? I haven’t seen the man with my own eyes since my trial.” Draco sat back and crossed his arms. “Does your lover like to take walks through Muggle London during your lunch hour?”  


“No.” Dean lied. “Why would you poison Harry?”  


“I wouldn’t. In fact, I advised Harry to see his Mind Healer rather than drink that potion. Why did you lie about walking through London with your lover?” It was a secret that Harry saw a Mind Healer, but one that Weasley was already aware of, and anyway, it wasn’t a big secret. Certainly not as big as the secret about Dean and Ginny.  


Dean stilled. “I didn’t lie.”  


“Is this because it’s a tumultuous relationship? On one month, off the next depending on perhaps her fiery mood?” That one danced closer to the truth, and Dean must have been more than a little suspicious.  


“Would you say that you and Harry were lovers?” Dean ignored the question, but his neck flushed enough to tell Draco he was correct. Which Draco already knew.  


“I might say we were sleeping together. Although, on separate sides of the channel.”  


“You said you were going to cooperate with the investigation.”  


“I’m tired. I’m hungry still. This tea is terrible. And I am angry now. What do you expect from an angry suspect?”  


Dean looked over at the wall.  


“Is Weasley back there? I think I want to talk to Weasley.” Draco waved at the wall and gave it a shit eating grin.  


“Draco, this will go a lot better for you if you just answer my question.”  


Draco leaned across the table to whisper in Dean’s ear, making sure that Dean’s body was between him and the dictophone and that Weasley would not be able to read his lips through the wall. “Are you sure? It might not go well for you, if I don’t get what I want.”  


Dean sighed, “Threatening me is not going to work. Either, you are innocent and have had no contact with anyone on this side of the channel in over a decade, or you're guilty and can know all kinds of secrets.”  


“That’s certainly one way to think about it.” Draco continued to lean forward and pitched his voice low. “Of course, there is a third theory, that I have had no contact with anyone in England except Harry Potter, through my dreams, and that he is the one sharing all these secrets with me.” He leaned closer, pitched his voice lower, “Haven’t you ever wondered if she’s yours?”  


Dean’s mouth went dry and he jerked away from Draco. “What?”  


“Surely you must have wondered. Harry certainly did.”  


And then Dean was storming out of the room, and Draco was grinning from ear to ear at the wall, at Weasley. They threw him back in the holding cell.

***

But Dean was the one who came with the Dreamless Sleep that night. He dismissed the guard and stood on the other side of the bars, nervous, rolling the vial back and forth in his hands. “So, you definitely know.”  


Draco was laying down on the bench; he had been trying to nap all afternoon, the guard kept coming in and poking him every time he drifted off. “I know many things. Which one are you talking about now?”  


“You know about-about me and my lover,” Dean clarified without clarifying.  


“I know you have been with her off and on for over five years.”  


“How?”  


“Harry knows.”  


“How?” Dean was breathless, his voice a bare whisper as he leaned against the bars.  
“He knows because a spouse always knows. Just like she knows about me.” Draco sat up, elbows on his knees. “Well, she probably doesn’t know it’s me, and she also probably thinks she’s crazy most of the time because she can’t find any evidence that Harry has a lover, but she still knows.” And Draco could tell from Dean’s open expression that he was right.  


“Why?”  


Draco shrugged. Probably only Harry could answer that question. Draco had never married, and really wasn’t good at maintaining a relationship that lasted longer than a few months. “She’s yours, you know.” Draco answered a different question. “That’s why Harry is always bringing in pictures to show you, inviting you to things like her birthday party. It isn’t because you’re such a good friend, it’s so you can see your daughter.”  


The rest of the fight went out of Dean. “You can’t know that. Even Ginny doesn’t know.”  


“Harry had her tested,” Draco replied. “He knew she might not be his, he was torn up over it for weeks, uncertain how he felt about raising a kid that might not be his, uncertain how he would feel if she was yours. Didn’t know if he wanted to leave Ginny. He kept threatening to start the Dreamless potion again, but its effects are limited.”  


“He tested her?”  


“Yep. Had the results sent to me so that Ginny wouldn’t know he suspected anything.”  


“He never treats her any different than Al or James.”  


Draco stood up and walked over to the bars. “That’s because he loves her, just like he loves Al and James. When I gave him the results, he let out a little laugh and said it didn’t make one damned bit of difference in how he felt about her. But that it definitely changed how he felt about you.”  


Dean looked up. “Why?”  


“Harry loved being a father, and he felt like he was stealing that from you by not telling you. But he couldn’t tell you without acknowledging the affair, and he knew that would destroy Ginny. So, he brought in pictures and made you look at every single one, and invited you over for parties and dinners so you could see her.”  


“You really are telling the truth about the dreams.” Dean sighed and Draco said nothing. “My affair with Ginny, you could have told your lawyer and let it come out during a trial, created reasonable doubt. But you didn’t do that. Why not?”  


“I wouldn’t do that to a little girl.” Draco scowled. “Well, I might if I was really angry, but then I would feel really bad about it. I wouldn’t want to do that to Lily.”  


“I can’t take you to the hospital,” Dean said. “But I can let you see Harry.” He put the vial in his pocket. “If you tell Ron--” he uncapped the vial and poured it on the ground.  


“I won’t.” Draco grinned. “I’ll keep this secret. I know all kinds of other things to make him turn redder than his hair.“  


“I don’t think I want to see that.”  


“Everyone wants to see that,” Draco laughed. And then he looked at Dean, “Thanks.”  


“Good dreams, Draco,” Dean said quietly as he left.  


Draco laid back down on the bench and closed his eyes.  


__

This time Harry was waiting on the bench outside, untouched glass of wine waiting next to him. Draco ran through the grass. The gate smacked against the wall with the strength Draco shoved it open, and there was Harry, pulling him into his arms. “You great bloody wanker! What were you thinking! You could have actually died!” he cried.  


__

Harry ran a soothing hand over his back. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, my love. I just missed you so much all the time, I couldn’t stand it there anymore.”  


__

“Weasley’s had me arrested. He keeps demanding to know how I poisoned you. Keeps asking all kinds of questions I don’t know how to answer.” Draco leaned back to look Harry in the eye. “I told Dean about Lily.”  


__

Harry nodded and let out a breath he’d been holding for five years. “That’s probably good. He deserves to know.”  


__

Draco chuffed. “It’s why I get to see you tonight. I told Dean and he agreed to skip the Dreamless potion Weasley keeps insisting I take.”  


__

Harry turned and walked back towards the bench. “Sometimes I forget how stubborn Ron can be.” He held out the wine for Draco. “I’ve been saving this for you.”  


__

Draco sipped the rich merlot. “This doesn’t mean I forgive you.”  


__

“We’ll just have to figure out how to convince Ron to let you go.”  


__

“You could wake up,” Draco pointed out darkly.  


__

“I want to be with you,” Harry reiterated.  


__

Draco rolled his eyes. “So be with me. Quit your job, move to France, be my kept man. Or join the French Aurors and be a permanent pain in the ass to Luc.”  


__

“I can’t just leave here. I can’t just leave Ginny and the kids.”  


__

“She doesn’t love you any more than you love her,” Draco pointed out. “And okay, you want to be able to see James and Lily and Al all the time and that will be bad. But Al is going to be leaving in a few months for Hogwarts anyway. And Lily, shouldn’t Lily get the chance to know Dean? I’m not saying you should give her up or anything, but aren’t two dads better than one? Just promise me you’ll think about it?”  


__

Harry nodded. “I promise.”  


__

Draco collapsed down on the bench. “Now, I need to figure out what to say to Weasley.”  


__

“Just talk about sex.” Harry smiled. “That always gets him boiling. And you could totally bring up that last week he and Hermione were having sex in my office and I walked in on him. It was really late, no one knows that but me and them.”  


__

“Ugh, talking about sex with Weasley.” Draco drank more wine. “He has my journals. Thank Merlin only the first one isn’t in code, but sometimes I made sketches.” He looked at Harry sideways. “Weasley found one I did of you blowing me. I thought his head might explode.”  


__

Harry laughed, bright and clear, in a way Draco hadn’t heard in a long time. It brought a smile to his face.  


__

“Do you remember when we built this place?”  


__

Harry looked out over the grass. “It used to be on the ocean. We’ve changed it quite a bit over the years. Slate roof, thatch roof, one floor, two. Do you remember that horrible orange couch we had for about a year?”  


__

Draco laughed. “I promised to destroy that thing with fucking. It was resilient.”  


__

“Remember that weekend we took the sleeping potion so we could spend all weekend together. I think that was the weekend we broke it.”  


__

Draco leaned against Harry and they watched the sunset together. “I don’t know what I would do without you, Harry.” Draco inhaled Harry’s scent. “You keep me strong when I think I’m going to fall.” He tipped his face up for a kiss. Harry pulled him close, it was an uncomfortable position for Draco to be seated on the bench, bent over sideways in order to rest his head on Harry’s heart. “I understand why you don’t want to leave.”  


__

“You could stay too,” Harry pointed out.  


__

It was a tempting thought, but Draco didn’t want to stay. He pulled back and looked at Harry. “I don’t want to. I want to wake up in the morning and see you in my bed, I want to feel you underneath me, I want to know the taste of you. Not just what I imagine you feel or taste like. I want to know every inch of your skin. I want to walk down the street with you, have a meal with you, fight with you. This is just a dream. I want reality, Harry.”  


__

“I don’t want to fight right now.”  


__

“Me neither. Take me inside?”

____

***

____

Ron started off the interview when Draco had a mouthful of pastry and was clutching his tea concerned that the hot cup might suddenly disappear. “What did you say to Dean?”  


____

Draco carefully chewed and swallowed and then took a long sip of his tea, savoring the heat. “That would be a private conversation between Thomas and me. If he would prefer not to tell anyone else, it’s certainly not my place to do so.” He took another sip.  


____

Surprisingly, Ron let it go. “When did your obsession with Harry begin?”  


____

“Really, that’s your question?” Draco drank more of his tea. “Probably around the time I was eight. My tutor told me the story of how he defeated the Dark Lord. I was an impressionable youth. When did yours?”  


____

“I never had an obsession with Harry.”  


____

Draco scoffed. “Of course you did, everyone in the wizarding world had a Harry obsession at one point or another. Most famously, your sister, but even Severus Snape was obsessed.” He said everything so matter of factly, and the vein on Ron’s forehead began to twitch just a little.  


____

“Your hatred of Harry was well known in school.”  


____

“Yes.” Draco rolled his eyes. “Is this how you normally conduct interrogations? With well known facts and obvious statements? Perhaps you’d like to know when I stopped hating Harry.” Draco paused, remembering the moment he realized he no longer hated Harry. “Perhaps not, it might be too salacious for your delicate sensibilities.”  


____

Ron ignored his comment and picked the first journal up off the table to flip through the pages to the right date. “I want to know about this date.” He pushed the journal across the table.  


____

Draco looked at the coded page, ran his fingers over the ink. This was a page he’d written in code (After he’d discovered Armand reading the journal on the couch, it had taken Draco several weeks to develop it). Harry’s wedding day. He ran his hand lovingly across the page, mildly overcome with emotion. “Do you remember the first time you made love to your wife, Weasley? Not the first time you had sex, but the first time you made love?”  


____

“It’s the same thing.” Ron scowled.  


____

“I suppose for you it might be, but sex is a complicated thing. For some, it’s a blow job in a dark corner, perhaps an unpleasant, drunken thrusting that leaves both parties disappointed. I’ve heard lesbians have it the most complicated, because most definitions involve penetration of some kind, and they just don’t have the equipment for that. But making love, taking the time to savor the moment with your partner, to shower them with affection and pleasure, putting their wants above and beyond your own, do you remember that first time?”  


____

Ron was blushing, his face slowly turning a deeper red than his hair. “We’re here to talk about you.”  


____

“Ah, but this date, that is the first time I made love to Harry.” Draco remembered because it was his wedding night with Ginny, and Harry had not done any of the things a groom was expected to do. He had not gotten spectacularly drunk, he had not glowed with pleasure and love at his new bride. He’d told Draco that it had felt like a performance, like the ministry events he attended, which of course made sense as it had been a huge public affair attended by the same people. And at the end of the night, both he and Ginny had been too tired to do anything but undress and go to sleep.  


____

_They were laying in the grass of the meadow, they hadn’t built the cottage yet, but the meadow and the ocean were there. Harry was resting his head on Draco’s stomach and they were watching the clouds go by.  
_

____

_“I just kept thinking that, it was nice with Ginny, but wasn’t it supposed to be more? Wasn’t it supposed to be the happiest day of my life?”  
_

____

_“I certainly wouldn’t know.” Draco combed his fingers through Harry’s hair. “I’m not ever getting married.”  
_

____

_“I wish you had been there. I wish I could have looked out and seen you.”  
_

____

_“Well, there was absolutely no chance I would ever go to your wedding, Potter.” Draco scowled. “Even if I had been invited and able to attend, I wouldn’t have gone.”  
_

____

_“Why?” Harry turned to look at him, and Draco was upset to see genuine hurt in Harry’s eyes.  
_

____

_Draco sat up, pulled Harry closer and pressed his lips earnestly to Harrys. “I think it would be terribly bad manners for me to drag the groom into the loo, suck him off, and then beg him to fuck me across the cake table.”  
_

____

_Harry laid back in the grass, pulling Draco down on top of him. “What if I wanted to be the one gettting fucked on the table?”  
_

____

_Draco stilled, “I didn’t think you were interested in that.”  
_

____

_Harry shrugged. “Maybe I am now.”  
_

____

_“You want me to fuck you now?”  
_

____

_Harry reached his hands up around Draco’s neck, wiggled his hips and rolling his cock against Draco’s. “I want, I very much want.”  
_

____

_Draco leaned down and kissed him, slowly, nibbling on his lower lip, licking the corner, teasing until Harry was pulling him down. Until Harry was thrusting his tongue into Draco’s mouth. He pressed his hips down, until they were both hard and panting, and then Draco made his way down the side of Harry’s neck while his hands pushed up the t-shirt and trailed lightly up the hard planes of his abs. His fingers ghosted over the light trail of hair, teasing underneath his belt and reaching up to caress Harry’s nipples.  
_

____

_And then Draco was scooting down between Harry’s legs, looking up at him as he undid the belt and pulled down the zip. Harry lifted up his hips, and Draco pulled his jeans off. Harry had skipped the pants, a common thing now. Draco kissed his way up Harry’s legs, paying special attention to the insides of his knees and his hip bones.  
_

____

_“Please,” Harry moaned. “Please, Draco.”  
_

____

_“All in good time, Harry.” Draco nuzzled his cock. “We’ve got all night after all.” He ran his nose up the length of him, exhaling wetly on the tip before taking him in his mouth. Harry bucked, pushing himself farther in, and Draco smiled before swallowing him all the way down. His hands gently cupped Harry’s balls, rolling them between his fingers and making Harry moan.  
_

____

_“Please, Draco.” He arched again, knees coming up along Draco’s shoulders. “Please, I’ve been waiting all day.”  
_

____

_Draco popped wetly off. “We need lube.” He licked from base to tip and then swirled his tongue around the head.  
_

____

_“Back pocket!” Harry cried.  
_

____

_Draco replaced his mouth with his hand, stroking up and down as he rummaged through Harry’s pockets. “You planned this?”  
_

____

_“Been, been thinking about this all day,” Harry ground out, and Draco quickly brought his mouth back to that cock, sucking deeply. He pushed Harry’s knees up a little higher and coated one finger with lube before teasing his hole. “Fucking tease!”  
_

____

_He took him all the way again and pushed his finger to the first knuckle. “Patience is a virtue.” Draco teased again, pressing soft kisses into the crease along his hip, ghosting over his balls, and coming back up the other side, before sucking him down again and pushing the finger in all the way.  
_

____

_“Fuck Draco.” Draco pulled out and added a second finger, scissoring gently, searching until Harry jerked and cried out wordlessly. He smiled again around Harry’s cock and made a point to brush his prostate with each stroke. Harry started to shudder. “Draco, I’m so close please, please I want you inside me.”  
_

____

_But Draco didn’t let up, he took him and took him and took him with fingers and mouth until Harry was crying and coming.  
_

____

_“Bastard,” Harry said softly, hands in Draco’s hair.  
_

____

_“It’s a dream, Harry.” Draco smiled up at him, fingers still working. “You’re going to come again. I’m going to put my cock inside you slow, so slow it won’t burn, and I’m going to find that spot inside you, and I’m going to stroke you until you’re a quivering mess, incoherent with pleasure. And I’m not going to stop until it’s morning, and you’re going to wake up and ache with the loss of me.”  
_

____

Draco didn’t know if Harry had woken up aching with the loss, but he had. It was a loss so similar to what he felt now, trapped between holding and interrogation, trapped between revealing secrets and an inability to save Harry, trapped between anger and longing. “If you can understand the difference between sex and making love, you might perhaps be able to understand my reluctance to discuss this particular moment,” Draco replied to Ron. “If you aren’t willing to share intimate moments with me, then why should I share mine with you.”  


____

“I just want to find out what happened,” Ron growled out.  


____

“I told you, I share dreams with Harry.”  


____

“Hermione assures me that’s not possible. You’ve either done something or you know something, and I just want to know.”  


____

And Draco leaned across the table to snarl in Ron’s face, “And I just want to save him.”  


____

Weasley jerked back, much as Dean had done the day before, and at first Draco wondered just what he had said to cause that reaction. But then he realized someone was whispering in his ear. Something had happened outside interrogation. “I’ll be right out. Put him back in holding.”  


____

Someone Draco didn’t know escorted him back down to his cell. Draco wanted to ask, to demand to know what was going on. Had Harry woken up? Had he died? Was this new terrible thing even related to Harry? But he kept his mouth shut. No one was going to tell him anything, and asking felt like giving away too much. She shoved him through the gate and slammed it shut.  


____

Draco stood there, in clothes he had worn for two days, feeling worn down, in need of a shower, emotionally drained, like he might just break down and cry. A warm hand wrapped around his waist and Draco inhaled the scent of anesthetic and something citric, like orange. Draco buried his face in Harry’s neck breathing and breathing until the tears stopped falling and he could pull back.  


____

“I missed you,” Harry said, brushing his thumb underneath Draco’s eyes. And then he smiled, “And I thought you might want some clean clothes.” He pulled off his invisibility cloak, reached into his pocket and unshrunk the trousers and blue cashmere sweater.  


____

“You bought them?” Draco began to cry again at the sight of the present Harry had given him in the cottage last year. After all, Draco didn’t buy any of the dream presents he gave to Harry.  


____

“I bought all of them,” Harry admitted, squeezed his eyes against the onslaught of tears, and held Draco close again. It was several minutes before Draco calmed from shoulder wrecking sobs to the occasional sniffle. “Put these on, you know you’ll feel better.”  


____

“I feel better now.” Draco squeezed Harry, but stepped back to put on the clean clothes. “Thank you.”

____

***

____

An hour later Dean came into the holding cell. St. Mungo’s had alerted Ron and Ginny as soon as they realized Harry was missing, and a massive manhunt had begun. Dean cast his patronus to send out the message that he had found Harry. He left out the fact that Harry and Draco were currently seated next to each other, hand in hand, on the bench with Harry’s head tucked on Draco’s shoulder.  


____

They looked peaceful, and Dean couldn’t remember the last time he had seen Harry look so relaxed. Quietly, to give them a few more minutes of peace before the chaos descended, Dean left.  


____

“They’ll all be here soon,” Harry whispered to Draco.  


____

Draco stirred from his light sleep. “What are you going to tell them?”  


____

“That I’m resigning.” Harry pushed the hair off of Draco’s forehead. “It’ll take time, lots of things to sort out. They’ll argue with me, but I think Ron will do just fine as Department Head. Gin and I will need to talk, make arrangements for the kids.”  


____

“I’m teaching right now, but only during the week. It’s an easy portkey to get here,” Draco said, putting a hand on Harry’s face.  


____

“It’ll be a big scandal,” Harry pointed out.  


____

“So we’ll stay in. I can think of lots of things we can do inside,” Draco whispered, his lips a breath away.  


“I like it,” Harry whispered back.  


____

When Ron, Ginny, and several Aurors arrived on the scene, Harry was pressing his lips firmly to Draco’s and he didn’t stop at the noises of their audience. Dean slipped his hand into Ginny’s, and Ron stared in something like horror and something like relief. Draco pressed himself a little closer, and Harry tipped his chin down to deepen the kiss.  


____

Eventually, Dean catcalled and Draco flipped him a V, but Harry drew back until his head rested against Draco’s. “You were right, I want reality.”  


____


End file.
